


The Really Good Kind

by Nununununu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Autumn, Caretaking, Coffee, Don't copy to another site, Halloween, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Storms, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Tony doesn’t sound at all repentant.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	The Really Good Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [textbookchoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookchoices/gifts).



> (Originally posted 31/10; re-dated for author reveals)

“You brought it.”

Tony seems surprised, if anything, and Peter has to pause a second at the counter in the tiny hotel room kitchenette with his back turned, gazing unseeingly at the folded bag of coffee he’s holding as he takes a breath in.

“Of course I did,” His voice thankfully sounds normal and he’s able to unfold the bag without chucking the contents everywhere despite his awareness that Tony has moved to stand _directly behind him_ , “Didn’t you tell me this was the good kind? The really good kind, like, why do you even _buy_ that other stuff, kid; it tastes like –”

“Ugh,” Yep, Tony’s response does indeed come from right behind him. Thanks, spider senses. And every other sense. Peter has long accepted that every part of him is pretty much attuned to the man. He doesn’t need to look to sense Tony shudder, “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”

“You?” Focusing on dividing the hot water between the two mugs rather than thinking about the fact that Tony could just, oh, say, reach out and place his hands on Peter’s hips so easily right now, Peter bites down on his lip. It’s difficult not to let his grin sound in his voice – or anything else – even so, “You stood there in my kitchen, drank the coffee I bought _and_ made you, spent at least ten minutes insulting it and then –”

“Bought you this far superior coffee, yes,” Tony doesn’t sound at all repentant.

“I’m glad,” Allowing his smile to spread across his face, Peter carefully swivels to pass the older man his mug, pretending not to react to the proximity, “Seeing as now I’ve tasted this I can no longer claim the old kind tasted any good.”

He’s sure Tony’s eyes drop to his lips as he takes a careful mouthful of his own steaming hot drink, _sure_ of it, but then Tony’s raising the mug to him in silent thanks and wandering off to poke at various things around the room.

It’s not the kind of place Peter can imagine Tony staying in, to be honest. The paint’s peeling off the walls in places; the carpet is tacky; someone has seen fit to place a jaunty collection of ceramic black cats dressed in witches’ hats on the shelf above the ancient radiator – Peter had arranged them earlier so they appear to be plotting together.

The storm outside continues flinging rain and red and yellow leaves from the nearby tree at the single window – chances are the branches will be bare come morning. Someone has hung cheerfully macabre zombie and skeleton bunting in the windows of one of the apartments in the block just visible across the street.

The single bed at the centre of the small room makes his heart thump. He can’t let himself think about that.

Peter had come to the city to follow a lead he’d been investigating, in the hope of discovering more and getting photographic proof. Tony had just – turned up. Clad in his armour, minus a change of clothes or even a toothbrush.

“Heard you were here,” Had been all the explanation he’d offered as he’d pulled Peter in for a hug. No hesitation or prevarication on doing so, no new improvements to the suit, no advice or chastisement, just a quirk of his eyebrow at the feline coven and a finger angling Peter’s camera from side to side in a way that implied Peter might find himself with upgraded version in not too long.

He’d found himself telling Tony about the lead, about the other things he hopes to do during his time in this city before going back home, about the most recent project he’s been working on, about some improvements he’s made himself to his suit – a combined effort these days – and about a suggestion a little kid whose parents’ he’d helped out had made about Iron Man.

“You really think –” Tony’s expression had turned musing, and he’d been off, sketching designs in the air and theorising out loud as Peter had tried not to glance too obviously at his hands.

“It would be something,” He’d agreed, thinking about the chill to the night nowadays and the thin clothes Tony was wearing, and then he’d gone to dig the coffee out of his backpack.

They drink it now side by side on the bed, given the sole chair is truly horrible, and Peter pretends not to notice the way Tony’s shoulder brushes against his occasionally.

It’s getting late, late enough Peter is going to have to address the fact it looks like Tony is set to stay.

“Well, best be off,” Tony chooses that point to make a show of stretching and standing up.

Peter pushes down the urge to reach out and pull him back.

“You – don’t have to,” He finds himself saying, just needing Tony to not leave yet, “I forgot – there’s this haunted house a couple of blocks down that’s opening tomorrow and –”

Wait, what is – Is he –

Is he – asking Tony out? Accidentally?

Semi-accidentally? Sort of on purpose?

To a haunted house?

Twisting his fingers in the duvet, he subsides, “Um.”

Tony is uncharacteristically still and quiet for a moment, just looking at him. Peter buries his face in his mug even though the dregs of his coffee are long cold, and curses himself.

“I could come back in tomorrow evening,” Tony says eventually, a little slow, a bit like he’s feeling his way. Clearly offering Peter an out. “Let you do your thing during the day and then –”

“Yeah,” Peter sits up a little, “You could.” He takes a breath in, trying not to sound too nervous. Or like he wants it anywhere near as much as he does, “Or you could – stay here? I have, you know, clothes I can lend you and stuff.”

“You –” Something flashes across Tony’s expression, almost too quick for Peter to catch it, and oh shit, he just offered Tony his clothes and –

And he really, like _really_ , wants to see Tony wear his clothes, and –

And for Tony to go to this haunted house with him even though it might not be any good and for Tony to wear any kind of Halloween costume or accessory Peter can possibly talk him into, and –

“Hey,” Tony’s saying, and his hands are on Peter’s shoulders, the touch warm and clarifying, “Hey. Peter. Breathe.”

He brings one of them up to cup Peter’s cheek so – okay, Peter has no chance whatsoever of breathing now. Although –

“You called me Peter,” He totally doesn’t mean to draw attention to it. And it’s not that he has a problem with ‘kid’, but – well. There are some specific situations he’d prefer _not_ to be called that in, and right about now he’s starting to have hope that maybe, just maybe, they might be on their way towards one of them and –

Oh yeah. Breathing.

“You good?” Tony’s hands linger on Peter’s cheek and shoulder long enough for him to feel awareness of their touch spread throughout his whole body, “We good here?”

“We’re good,” Peter nods, only to doubt himself a second later, “Are we good?”

“I reckon so,” Tony’s mouth is slowly curling upwards; it takes Peter until then to realise he’s curled his hands around Tony’s wrists as if to keep him there, “You were going to lend me your shirt. Early night tonight; date at a haunted house to keep tomorrow and all that.”

“I am?” Peter almost questions before his brain catches up with him, “ _I am_.” 

Quite what else that means Tony will be wearing when they – wow. When they share this narrow, kind of crappy bed.

Well. Like whether that haunted house is any good or not, it looks like Peter might just be lucky enough to have the chance to find out.

It takes until they’re lying crammed together on the mattress with the lights out and the storm still rattling away at the window, Peter drinking in the feeling of Tony’s warmth pressed up entirely wonderfully against him when he realises.

Tony had said _date_.


End file.
